Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
by thephilanthropicpenguin
Summary: Blaine watches over Kurt Hummel for twelve years before he says hello. His not-life will never be the same. SupernaturalAU/Vampire!Blaine
1. Change

Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

Summary: Blaine watches over Kurt Hummel for twelve years before he says hello. SupernaturalAU/Vampire!blaine

Chapter 1: Change

_I watched you change_

_Into a fly_

_I looked away_

_You were on fire_

The house is not what he expects. It's a shack of a thing, the only decorations are the damaged baby blue shutters closing over a single window and the small garden of weed-choked azaleas underneath it. There's enough light from the half moon to see the paint peeling from the mailbox and the bleached "751" on the box's side – the missing metal letters must have fallen into the weeds that tumble from the yard over the curb. A soft glow escapes from the slits in the shutters and casts a pattern across the pebble walkway as he makes his way toward the front porch.. He takes both steps at once, avoiding the rotten wood that creaks under his feet as he steps to the door. He knocks once, twice and waits in the night air, fiddling with the lint in the pockets of his suit jacket. There's not a shuffle or stir in the house before the door is yanked open by a groomed gentleman in tweed smoking jacket. His eyes alight in recognition, although he is sure that he's never seen him before.

"Blaine Anderson, you're late." The gentleman – boy, really, despite the outfit he can't be much older than how he himself appears – smirks and he sees it: a flash of elongated canines. Just as quickly, they're gone, covered by gums as the man licks his lips. He could be older, then. He opens the door fully, and beckons Blaine inside with a flourish of a bow. "He's asked that you wait in the parlor. He should be along soon. Won't you come in?"

Blaine doesn't miss the sarcasm, the mocking little smile from the man – vampire- as he passes the threshold, and an instant dislike wells up inside him. It's not really unsurprising; his distaste of Jesse's little henchmen isn't an uncommon reaction.

The house is in no better condition on the inside than what he saw in the yard. He's lead down the hallway, passing a couple of dusty family portraits, before he enters the "parlor".

The room is small and cozy; a living room (Blaine smirks at the irony). A chair is pushed into a corner, next to an reading lamp that flickers a bit. There's a small but welcoming fireplace in the center, with an antique couch pushed in front. The fire beckons him further into the room, distantly aware that the welcoming committee has left him alone. He disregards the couch – covered and dust and unused for months – and squats in front of the flames, watching as they dance. He reaches out a hand, relishing the blistering heat. He's always liked fire. The warmth seems to be the only thing that makes him feel human these days.

"Glad you're enjoying my humble abode. Not one of my loveliest villas but I was in a hurry." Blaine turns his head without moving from his hunched position. Jesse St. James is leaning against the back of the couch, dust hanging in the air from where he placed his hands. He has a pleasant enough smirk on his face but Blaine still wants to wipe it off. Jesse continues, "I was expecting you some time ago."

Blaine rises, shrugs, "I had some things to clear up."

Jesse raises an eyebrow at that, righting himself and walking to the front of the couch; taking a seat and crossing his legs.

"Right, right," he says, drawling out the last word, "_things._" Blaine knows that the accusatory tone is meant to be met with an explanation, but he ignores it. "Why did you ask me here, Jesse?"

The vampire in front of him isn't used to being addressed like this and he's affronted, although he hides it under a a terse smile. Blaine hasn't seen Jesse in decades. He looks no different from before: thick, wavy hair, pristine suit, a superior tilt to his head and his nose in the air.

"I have a favor to ask you," he says after a moments consideration. With any other of his kind, Blaine would have scoffed, laughed. Why would I do anything for you? But Jesse looks smug already because he knows what Blaine's answer will be. He _owes _Jesse. The word tastes like ash. Blaine isn't accustomed to being in debt.

"What favor?" Blaine asks. Jesse looks pleased and relaxes, leaning back into the couch as he laces his fingers together behind his head.

"I need you to babysit."

This time Blaine really does laugh; a bark of a laugh as he throws his head back. "Really, St. James?" As much as his dislikes admitting it, Blaine owes Jesse a whole hell lot more than that. "What's the catch? Taking care of some werewolf cubs?"

Jesse simply smiles, "Something like that."

Blaine stops laughing at that, curiosity piqued at the look on Jesse's face. Blaine can sense that he's nervous as he fiddles with his cufflinks and shifts his weight forward, twiddling his thumbs as he braces his elbows on his knees.

"It's more of a...long term engagement," he explains. "A few rumors have been swirling around the underground. And you know how I like to be careful. There will be payment. Although I recall you owe me a great deal more than this, I'm willing to give you some extra incentive."

Blaine scoffs, "If you're paying me anyway, why not get one of your goons?"

"It requires a bit of a delicate touch. I hate to admit it, but however much your superiority complex grates on me, I trust you to do a better job than any of the half-wit hobgoblins I have under my employ."

For a moment, Blaine is amused that St. James of all people is accusing him of having an ego. He tosses the idea around in his head, meeting the eyes of a Jesse St. James he realizes he hasn't seen in a while: he's nervous and hoping that Blaine will say yes. Whatever "rumors" he's been hearing seem to have a weight to them that the other vampire isn't keen on sharing.

"You said long term: how long, exactly?" Blaine asks.

"Eighteen years, give or take."

"HA, you're kidding."

"Not at all."

Blaine is at a loss. He's well aware of what he owes Jesse: a lifetime of servitude, if he honored the old "life for a life" system. Jesse could have easily demanded this job of him, without a hint of reluctance. But here he sat, giving Blaine a way out. It was curious enough that Blaine couldn't help but ask:

"And what would I be babysitting?"

Jesse stands lightning fast and is across the room in less than a blink. Blaine had not noticed the ancient chest of drawers pressed against the opposite wall. Jesse opens the top left drawer and takes out a manilla folder, standing in front of Blaine in a flash with the folder extended. Blaine takes it and flips it open. Inside are a few pages of scrawl in many different scripts, as if a number of people were taking down notes on the same page. Blaine flips through until he comes to a picture of a boy. He's maybe six, with soft brown hair and a bow tie. He's set up a tea party in what Blaine assumes is his front yard, the blurred outline of a house in the backdrop. The boy's only guest is a a stuffed elephant.

"A child," Blaine deadpans, hardly believing what he's seeing. "A _human_ child?" he asks, eyes flicking up to meet Jesse's.

"Yes, you'll find he's easy enough to keep up with. He's a homebody really. Prefers movie starlets to wrestlers and-"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing is wrong with him. He's frustratingly average, despite his apparent aversion to masculinity."

Blaine knows there is a catch. But from the way Jesse is looking at him he bites his tongue instead of pushing. He casts his gaze back on the photograph.

"All you have to is keep an eye on him. I mean, don't outright stalk him, that's absurd. Just... check in on him every now and again. Find somewhere in town to stay and keep your senses honed on him. Make sure he stays away from trouble. Do this for me, and I'll consider your debt settled. Once it's over, I'll throw in something else worthwhile. "

There it is. Despite the nagging in his head, he lets out a breathy and frustrated "alright." After all, eighteen years is hardly anything to Blaine. He's been around a lot longer than that. It almost feels like an insult to Jeremiah, if he's honest.

Jesse flashes his pearly whites, clearly pleased. "Perfect."

* * *

><p>Blaine feels the first tug of regret when he arrives in front of a house in Lima, Ohio. The town is small and Blaine wonders if his time here will be a worthwhile break or years of relinquishing boredom. He puts his car in park and sits idle, peering into the darkness of the windows. He doesn't expect a household of a working father and mother and six year old son to be awake at this hour so he really doesn't know why he decided to come. Besides curiosity.<p>

He glances at the passenger seat, where the manilla folder sits. For the first time he notices the name "Hummel, Kurt" scrawled on the tab. He reaches over to grab it and flicks on the dash light. He reads over seemingly insignificant information like birth date (it seems he's older than Blaine thought, a few months shy of eight) before he reads more curious tidbits:

_favors right ear_

_significant amount of sleep during spring_

_fear of dogs_

The notes go on for several pages and it makes no sense to him why someone like Jesse St. James is having such a fuss over a kid. There isn't anything in his file that alludes to something significant. His parents are Burt and Elizabeth Hummel, inconsequential for their part. Burt is a mechanic, Elizabeth is a teacher. They're both Ohio natives.

Jesse St. James isn't just some two-bit blood sucker. He's a business man with an image to maintain. He wouldn't throw Blaine into this, essentially wasting a lifetime of favors, if there wasn't something to be gained.

Blaine closes the file and runs a hand through his hair, his fingertips tugging at the curls. His mind is whirling with theories even as he feels a weariness creeping into his bones that reminds him just what time it is. There's a hint of light to the east. He turns the key in the ignition and the car sparks to life.

He was not looking forward to a motel today.

* * *

><p>It's been a few weeks since he met with Jesse. Blaine has found a comfortable and forgettable apartment in Lima Heights, a part of town he figures won't question his curious sleeping habits and nighttime rituals. The apartment complex is nondescript and the landlords are assholes enough that the tenants are likely to turn fairly quickly, eliminating any unnecessary observation about Blaine's unchanging looks.<p>

The apartment is a two room. The main reason he decided on this one is because the second bedroom has no windows. He's pleased to have a full-sized bed instead of having to compromise on a bathroom or closet to protect himself from the sun. He isn't domestic so the decorations are simple: a painting that he likes, and a bookshelf half filled with paperbacks. It's spotted with trinkets he's collected over the many years.

His days have been spent there, naturally. His nights have been spent getting to know the town and, of course, Kurt Hummel. Neither are particularly interesting. Lima is practically a backwater town compared to what Blaine's gotten used to over the last few decades- New York, Boston, Chicago. The population is small enough to make feeding tricky, so he's already been to Columbus once to stake out places to feed. For what it's worth, Jesse seems to be the head-honcho around Ohio, and he's already let his people know that Blaine is a special friend. With that kind of calling card, the clubs he'd visited in Columbus are more than happy to oblige him.

Blaine has learned a few things about Kurt Hummel already: He's headstrong and sort of fearless and from what Blaine can tell he doesn't have many friends. The first few days he was in Lima, Blaine spent entire nights watching the boy. He took in his smells and sounds, honing in on the little human, learning to cancel out Burt and Elizabeth. It takes Blaine less time than normal to set up a connection to Kurt; a way to sense him even when Blaine is farther away. By the third night, Blaine wanders through the streets of the neighborhood, reaching out to Kurt and testing the bounds of the connection. He can dimly sense his emotional state (content, for the most part) and he can pick up his scent through the trails of the neighbors. It is dim but solid and certainly enough to keep up with Kurt.

Blaine's waking hours are now shadowed by the tug of the boy, always at the back of his mind. Blaine is pleased that it's taken so little effort to make this link and sets up a schedule to watch him. He only makes it to the Hummel house two or three times a week in an effort to make himself feel like less of a creep. He sits in the shadows of the large, wooded backyard and watches as the Hummel's go about their lives, wondering what - or if - they're hiding something.

* * *

><p>A few months have passed when Elizabeth - Liza- takes Kurt out for a dinner with her friends – a ladies' night out that looks like it's been crashed by their children. Martinis are passed around and the children subsequently ignored, sent to sit at a separate table and keep each other company.<p>

Blaine arrives just as the desserts are set out for the kids and second (third, fourth) drinks arrive for their mothers. He takes cover in an alleyway across the street, glad that the party has been seated in front of a few large bay windows so that he at least has something to look at while is waits. The vampire plans only to stick around for a few minutes. The neighborhood is quiet and the only thing he senses his the annoyance swelling in Kurt as he swats at the bread stick that a plump, dark-skinned boy keeps poking him in the face with. Another boy looks up and laughs which only fuels the bigger boy's taunting. The only girl, a pretty Chinese girl with big, brown eyes, seems sympathetic to Kurt's plight but doesn't interfere. She does grip Kurt's hand on the table and gives it a comforting squeeze.

It's less than 15 minutes before the group is leaving. The women are laughing loudly while the kids trail behind them. Kurt is glued to the Chinese girl's side (Tina, he thinks her mother calls her) putting her between him and the boys.

Liza is unsteady from the alcohol as she steps into the street, calling back to Kurt as she digs in her purse for her keys. She isn't paying attention to the car that quickly turns the corner and continues barreling toward her.

Blaine knows what will happen next, and is fully aware he could stop it. He has plenty of speed to push Liza out of the way, even enough strength to stop the car. But instead his eyes flick back to Kurt. He stands close to Tina, oblivious to a moment that is about to change his life, as the girl glances around sheepishly before giving him a peck on the cheek.

That's when it happens.

Blaine can practically feel the flush rise to the boy's cheek. The vampire's breath hitches, pupils blown wide. Blaine is suddenly hyper aware of Kurt; his invades his head, he hears the scratch of his skin as Kurt brings a hand up to his cheek and rubs the spot where Tina's kiss lay. Blaine feels the stab of his fangs as they ascend, staring as Kurt turns to follow his mother. Blaine is too wrapped up in the boy to remember Liza and the car until he sees Kurt's eyes widen, his mouth drop open in a scream,

"Mom! MOM! Watch out!"

Blaine knows he should watch as Liza raises her head and looks into headlights; hits the hood with a crack and flies over the top of the car; slams into the ground, _blood _everywhere. But he can't tear his eyes away from Kurt, who's still screaming. It's like nothing Blaine has ever heard; a song more than a cry. It's heavenly. He grips the brick of the alleyway, shuddering as Kurt runs to his mother, his cries turning into sobs. His own breathing is uneven as he closes his eyes, imaging himself clutching the boy, bringing his nose to that soft hair to inhale his scent, sinking his teeth into his tiny neck where the pulse is frantic.

He's slammed back into reality as he hears another scream – nothing like Kurt's. This scream is vulgar in comparison and makes him want to gag. It's one of Liza's friends, and she's running toward the wrecked body. Kurt is still crying and Blaine feels the tug again, but as more people take notice the cries distract him – s_omeone call 911, oh god liza are you okay, what happened is she alright, I didn't even see her, she's not breathing – _he backs away from the scene, frantic to escape. Kurt is huddled next to his mom, the fabric of her dress bundled in his blood covered hands. Blaine rips himself away from the sight and runs, ignoring the desperate urge to turn around and bite into what he's sure will be the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

* * *

><p>AN: So there it is. The typos (especially the tense changes, I'm so bad about that!) are probably atrocious because it's like 4 in the morning but I wanted to put it up :)

I've got the next...meh, 2 or so chapters pretty much typed out and this long, epic storyline running around in my head, haha. Let me know what you think! Is it worth continuing? ;)


	2. Closer

Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

Summary: Blaine Anderson watches Kurt for twelve years before he says hello. SupernaturalAU/Vampire!blaine

Chapter 2: Closer

_Driven by the strangle of veins_  
><em> Showing me no mercy, I'd do it again<em>  
><em> Open up your eyes<em>  
><em> You keep on crying, baby, I'll bleed you dry<em>  
><em> The skies they blink at me<em>  
><em> I see a storm bubbling up from the sea<em>  
><em> And it's coming closer<em>  
><em> And it's coming closer<em>

"What the fuck are you playing at, St. James?" Blaine spits, pressing his arm into Jesse's neck. It has taken him three nights to hunt the vampire down, inquiring at dive bars he knows that Jesse is associated with. He'd finally gotten a decent tip at a pub called Jay's and found himself in a shady nightclub in the heart of Columbus. The memory of the night at the Italian restaurant and Kurt is still amazingly poignant. "This isn't just some kid. Do you know what happened last night? I almost made a snack of the human," he spits out the word, "you ordered me to watch like a hawk. I can't exactly do that if I'm the one that he needs to be kept away from." He can still hear the scream, feel his fangs lower. "What. Is. He?"

"Nothin-" Jesse can't get the word out before Blaine applies more pressure to his throat, cutting him off with an unattractive gurgle.

"I want the truth, Jesse. This doesn't happen to me. I don't-"

"Loose control like that?" Jesse spits out, eyes locked on his. "Why do you think I wanted you to work for me? Any other bloodsucker within fifty feet of him would rip his throat out." He grips Blaine's arm with his hand, digging his claws into the flesh. Blaine's eyes widen, his grip slackens and Jesse drops to the floor, keeping his balance and immediately readjusting his shirt and tie, feeling at his neck. His eyes meet Blaine's and there's a sharpness to his glare.

"You knew there was a catch, Blaine. You aren't stupid. I wouldn't have wasted a favor like you owe me on something as ridiculous as a human kid" He snarls, madness in his eyes. "And what are you doing? Chasing me across Ohio? Leaving him to fend for himself? You're doing a fantastic job, you fucking idiot. "

Blaine's eyebrows are furrowed together, questions spinning through his head. Sure, naturally he's pulled to humans (some more than others) but he hasn't lost control of himself like that since he was a youngling.

Blaine reaches out quickly and grips Jesse's arm tightly as the other vampire turns to walk away.

"But what is h-" His question is cut off as the back of Jesse's hand slams into his cheek, cracking the bone and sending him flying into the wall. Before Blaine can shake himself from the stupor, Jesse grips him by the neck, picking him up and forcing him against the dirty brick behind him. Jesse's pupils engulf his irises, and Blaine stares into the dark with a measure of animalistic terror gripping him. Jesse is older than him, stronger than him.

Jesse's breath is cold, he leans in and his lips brush viciously against Blaine's ear as he speaks. "Look, _Blaine_. I know you consider yourself some sort of paragon of virtue because you stay out of our politics, so there's a lot you don't know about this world. You are_ so. very. young_," he punctuates the words strongly, a drag of his tongue over his fangs," by the standards of our kind. Jeremiah kept you away from all that, instilled some sort of unbearable sense of justice in you, and taught you to wipe your ass with a damned silk scarf, as if your were better than us. But understand me when I tell you this: I let you off the hook. You're useful; you have a good head on your shoulders. Jeremiah's particular method of rearing has made you into more than a valuable asset to me. I stuck my neck out for you and your maker. So do as you're told and don't bother your pretty little head over Kurt Hummel. Now get back to Lima."

Jesse St. James is gone before Blaine hits the floor.

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson is many things but a pushover isn't one of them. He's undeterred by Jesse's threat - even egged on by it - and he wants to know why Kurt Hummel does this to him. He knows Google isn't going to help him with this particular search so he starts asking around in Columbus when he goes to feed. He takes it slow, with simple and vague questions about any kind of rumors swirling around The Underground. He figures Jesse has set up eyes to watch him so he chooses sketchier joints, the ones with matrons that lightly scoff and roll their eyes when Blaine throws out the name Jesse St. James. The humans he feeds from have been in the business a lot longer, some are strung out on drugs or so addicted to the bite they've given up families and homes, but the vampires he meets tend to forget him easier and their tongues are looser.<p>

Despite that, he hears nothing about a kid in Lima, Ohio that has a knack for getting under Blaine's skin.

So Blaine takes a job at a bar in town. It's closer to the Hummel residence than his own apartment, only a few miles away from it, which means he can keep a closer eye on Kurt (hypothetically, of course, he's relying on his other senses from this distance). He's vaguely worried that, although it is his job to watch after Kurt, his thoughts are bordering on obsessive. His hours at the bar give him something different to focus on for the night while also giving him an excuse for his over observant neighbors when he comes home in the wee hours of the morning, while business men and women are just heading out for their workday.

He's pleasant enough with the customers, he even enjoys a few of them, but all in all they're a dim group of middle aged, working-class men that have never been out of Ohio. They wear overalls and trucker hats and order the same pitcher of beer every night and talk about the work day with the boys. Blaine has now been in Lima for seven months. He sees the years stretch out ahead of him, filled with useless redneck chatter. And Kurt Hummel.

Liza Hummel died two weeks ago. Since that night, Blaine has been feeling uncharacteristically anxious. The memory of Kurt's influence still baffles and haunts him, but he knows that it's deeper than that. He gets a creeping idea in the back of his mind that this emotion isn't just his.

He's proven right when he's at work, drying a pint glass with a cloth. He reaches up to place the glass on its shelf when a wave of sadness hits him like a train. He doubles over, the glass shattering on the floor. Tears are already streaming from his eyes and he has no idea where they're coming from. He feels a large hand on his back and faintly hears his boss asking if he's all right.

"Fine, just need a minute, bad food," he mumbles, stumbling from behind the bar and out the employee entrance. He hits the pavement on all fours, bits of asphalt in his hands as he lets out a heart-wrenching sob. He can see it now – Kurt curled up in his bed, a bottle of perfume uncorked and staining the white sheets amber. He's screaming incessantly about his mother - _where's my mother? why can't she come back?_- and his skin is red and blotchy from crying. Blaine shudders, ripping his thoughts away from the boy and trying to focus on what he sees in front of him: the dimly lighted parking lot, spotted with trucks. There are cicadas in the trees around him and a light but warm breeze rustles the leaves. The sadness is ebbing away and he gasps for air; for relief. It's gone as quickly as it's come and he's back in his own body but he can still feel Kurt Hummel's despair throbbing at the edge of his mind.

Blaine sits back on his knees, hands running through his hair, inhaling and exhaling deeply. The tears are cold on his cheeks. This isn't like anything he's felt before. Even as a youngling, when his senses went haywire just trying to cope with the change, he had never been so honed in on one human before.

He collects himself and stands, wiping away the tears and straightening his shirt as he heads back inside. His boss looks at him worriedly but Blaine is already washing his hands.

"I'm fine."

* * *

><p>Kurt is ten.<p>

Blaine has spent over two years in Lima. He's grown accustomed to the simplicity of the town. For the first months he was bored out of his mind, but somehow he's managed to carve out a niche for himself that doesn't completely evolve around Kurt.

Well, Blaine would really like to think this. But the facts are there: two years of watching over a kid and he has to stop himself from labeling himself as a stalker.

It's true that Blaine has been around for much longer than the average lifetime. Two years hardly feels like much time at all. But by now Blaine has picked up on the boy's habits. Frankly, he feels like a creep when he watches Kurt flick a hand through his bangs and knows that this means he's upset. Or when he lifts his chin, and locks his jaw open when he's annoyed at someone. On the nights that Blaine spends on the Hummel's property, he watches him sketch at the kitchen table or act out a musical he's watching on TV.

He feels a fondness for Kurt now. He's watching the boy as he grows up. Lately, he's been tortured by the idea that Blaine has no way to comfort the boy when he's hurt, or praise him when he's happy. He wants to be there for Kurt, instead of watching him from the sidelines. But Kurt has no idea that he exists. And Blaine is sure that if Kurt got even an inkling about him, the boy would be terrified.

Blaine hasn't been to the Hummel residence in four nights so he decides it's time to check it out again. He arrives just in time to see Kurt scoop up his Power Rangers and Ken dolls. The boy calls to his father as he heads out the door. It's just after the sun has set as Kurt sets off down the street toward the playground. Blaine watches him from the trees as the boy walks in and out of the halo of street lights. The playground is a simple, fenced-in affair with a couple of bright lights around the perimeter. There's a jungle gym and a rusty metal slide. Kurt takes off for the Merry-Go-Round, hopping on top as it spins a little. He sits in the middle, amongst the metal handlebars, and plays with his dolls.

Blaine leans against a tree, and smiles softly, amused. Kurt is certainly creative. The story lines he comes up with are ridiculous and full of drama. Blaine has actually grown to like these play sessions, to watch the child relax and laugh. The vampire feels a tug of warmth; of affection. He's a bit shocked at himself. When exactly did his mark start growing on him like this?

The mood is ruined when a round black boy shows up. Kurt notices him approach the Merry-Go-Round, gathering his things but maintaining eye contact and lifting his chin.

"What do you want, Azimio?" The other boy just laughs, grips the handles of the Merry-Go-Round and runs a quick circle around Kurt before stopping it abruptly. Kurt's holding onto the center rails like a vice.

"Nothin', Kurt," he says in mockingly high voice. "What have you got there?"

Kurt doesn't answer him. He stands shakily and turns away from Azimio, trying to get off the opposite side of the play ground equipment. But he stumbles as Azimio jerks the bars again, back and forth. Kurt can't keep his balance and his knees collide with the metal disc painfully. He scrambles off before the bully has time to rotate the Merry-Go-Round further and takes off running across the playground.

Blaine is watching from the dark, glaring at the other boy with a snarl on his lips. It'd be so easy to rip the little fuck's head clean off his-

Kurt drops his green Power Ranger. He realizes a little too late and once he turns around to get it Azimio is walking up to it. The dark-skinned bully picks it up, tossing it between his hands.

"I think I'll keep this, Hummel. My brother says a fag can't like Power Rangers anyway."

Blaine is shocked. Shocked that he just heard that from the mouth of a ten-year old. Azimio looks smug; Kurt looks confused but still angry. Blaine realizes that neither of them are likely to the know the true meaning of the word. Azimio must have picked it up from an older sibling and spat it out like a parrot. Blaine feels rage bubbling inside him as Kurt turns in a huff, taking off toward home with one less doll. Azimio slips the figure into the pocket of his hoody and laughs on the way home.

* * *

><p>Azimio Adams gets a visitor later that night. He wakes up to a scratching sound against his window. He isn't afraid, he's not some girl like Kurt, but he still burrows himself deeper in his covers and casts large eyes to the window. The scratching grows louder before it stops. Azimio peeks out from the covers, relieved as he looks at the empty window.<p>

And then the window starts to slide open, ever so slowly up and away from the sill. Azimio gasps and rips the covers off (courage be damned, he is _not_ getting eaten by some gutter clown) and he charges toward the door. He stumbles over his Playstation in the darkness - he's big and tough and doesn't_ need_ a nightlight- but before his body collides with the floor he feels hands clutch around his stomach, pulling him upright. He's only able to open his mouth in preparation to scream before his mouth is covered by a hand and he's pushed against his closed door.

The boy has never seen something this terrifying. It's dark, but his eyes have already had a little while to adjust and he can see the outline of a face. The moon casts its light on a mop of curly, dark hair. The man's brows are furrowed and he's snarling like some animal, lips drawn back and teeth clenched together. Azimio starts screaming against the hand at his mouth when he notices the elongated fangs.

Holy shit, it's a monster

Azimio starts flailing and kicking and screaming but he can barely move because the arms holding him are like steel and his screams are muffled and weak. But the man pushes fiercely against his stomach and suddenly Azimio can't breath enough to scream.

"Alright, kiddo, listen to me for a second." The voice is deep like a growl. Azimio just stares at him, mouth opening and closing like a guppy. The man smirks, an evil quirk of the lips before he continues, "You took something from one of my friends today. I don't like it when people take things without asking. I also don't like when worthless shits like you push around other kids for fun." Azimio can barely register what the monster is saying. He watches his mouth move like he's trying to follow the words but the real thing he's looking at is the set of fangs that keep disappearing and reappearing from behind his gums. "Where's the green Power Ranger?"

That gets Azimio's attention. The- the what? This is about that stupid doll? He raises his arm shakily, pointing at his bedside table where he threw the doll. The monster turns his head to look but before Azimio can blink he's snapped his attention back to him. His eyes are all black, like Azimio's cat when he's stalking a mouse.

"Azimio," - _what the hell, how did he know his name_, "Azimio, Azimio..." the monster is chuckling now, dark and low and Azimio is crying at this point, "I could kill you." And now he's screaming again, shaking his head, bawling and pleading. He doesn't want to get eaten, he doesn't, he's sorry-

"But I'm not going to." But the monster's movements are contrary to his statement. He takes his hand from Azimio mouth and grip tightly around his neck. The bully sputters, gripping at the hand with both of his smaller ones. He's trying to gasp in air as he's lifted by his neck.

"Pay attention, Azimio. This is important." The boy can barely look down. His vision is swimming when he meets the darkened eyes of his attacker.

"I want you to take that doll back to Kurt Hummel and apologize to him. If I find out that you say one more word to him after that, I'll rip your tongue out so that you can never speak again. Is. That. Clear?"

Azimio frantically nods his head. The monster drops him in a heap on the floor. His throat is burning so much that he can't scream. By the time his mother finds him, woken by the thump of her boy as he'd hit the floor, Blaine is long gone.

* * *

><p>Kurt is fourteen years old now. He has a healthy layer of baby fat and he's started making custom bow ties. Blaine checks on him every other day or so and keeps his senses aligned with him. The connection hasn't really grown over the last few years, but it somehow seems more solid. Blaine often experiences a jolt of sadness while he's reading or doing chores. The waves come quickly and wash away and Blaine knows that it isn't his own emotion. Occasionally there are ridiculous moments of joy, and Blaine stops what he's doing to embrace it. A repeat like the night at the bar - when he was so overcome with Kurt's emotion - has only happened twice again. Both were fits of overwhelming sadness; both on the anniversary of Liza Hummel's death. But the first time he experiences terror is a Sunday at twilight.<p>

It starts in his dreams, as his body and mind begin stirring. He's forced to sleep by the cycles of the sun. On any other day, as the sun sets he can feel his body and his mind begin to stir, slowly waking as the sun sinks below the horizon.

Today is different. Instead of a calming, almost meditative awakening he feels himself frantically trying to pull himself into the waking world. If his heart was beating, he'd sure it would be frantically whirring in his chest. He tries to push himself up but can't, and is trapped in his state of unrest. He can feel himself becoming more terrified has the time passes, his arms and legs beginning to register as he twists in bed. As the sun sets, he shoots upright in bed, letting out a cry. For a moment he can't remember where he is, seeing flashes of a wood. He puts his shaking hands to his face, rubbing his eyes and trying to calm his mind. That's when he realizes there is nothing for him to be afraid of.

It's Kurt.

Blaine is out the door without hesitation, fear thrumming at the back of his mind. His own is now lingering with Kurt's. He can feel the child's footsteps and lurches forward as Kurt tumbles over his own legs. Blaine throws open his car door and revs the engine, tearing out of the parking lot with a squeal of wheels. The neighborhood kids playing basketball in the street clamor out of the car's way, staring after him. Blaine is being tugged forward, left, right. He makes it out of Lima Heights and hears a scream in the back of his head, slamming on the brakes and pulling of the road. He abandons the car with the door still open, the ding-ding-ding disappearing quickly as Blaine takes off on foot, through the woods and straight toward Kurt.

It takes nearly three minutes, despite his speed, to begin to see familiar landmarks. He realizes that he's heading toward Kurt's house. The terror is getting stronger as he rips his way out of the woods and onto the street in front of the Hummel residence, anxiety creeping into his limbs.

The scream he hears this time is not in his mind.

The front door cracks off its hinges as Blaine rips through it, wood splintering across the floor of the living room. The house is a wreck. The couch is ripped and thrown against the wall, the glass coffee table shattered. His nostrils flair as he takes in the scent of another vampire. The musk makes him want to spit. He snarls as his fangs descend. It takes him a moment to see the open sliding glass door, leading into the darkness of the backyard.

Another scream, farther back in the woods. The Hummels own a good three acres, with undeveloped land beyond. A few lower branches are cracked and strewn about the yard. Blaine bounds passed them, the scent of Kurt invades him as does the pungent odor of a hunter. He can hear the ripping and shredding of trees and the footfalls of the tiny human ahead of him. He bounds into a clearing and locks eyes with a demon.

It's the first vampire Blaine has encountered while watching Kurt. Seven years of relative quiet is suddenly ripped out from under him. He takes in the snarl, tensed claws and fangs of the one before him. Kurt is just beyond him, crawling away. The adrenaline has distracted him, he doesn't notice that the monster chasing him has stopped and set it's sight on the new competition.

The vampire's lips stretch back in a feral smile, darkened eyes glistening with amusement. He's dressed in sweat pants and a Buckeyes shirt. "This one's mine, asshole." he growls out. Without a second's hesitation he runs toward Blaine, straight forward, trying to grab the other vampire around the middle.

Blaine's eyes narrow. With that kind of approach, he knows that this vampire is just a kid who has no idea what he's up against. Blaine easily dodges, jumping to the side, pushing off a tree back in the direction of the bewildered youngling. He slams into him, grabs him by the hair and tears into his neck. His opponent lets out a screech as they slam into the forest floor and it's the last sound he makes as Blaine rips through his neck. The bones in his neck crack viciously and the vampire's head is torn from his body, the sound like fabric ripping.

It's over, faster than it started really. Blaine stands above the body, spitting out the acrid blood of his opponent as he tosses the head away. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve, knowing that he'll need to collect and burn the remains later. He senses movement behind him and turns to see Kurt.

The boy is deathly pale, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes as he struggles to gulp in air. Blaine himself is struggling to ignore the rush of blood through the tiny veins. He holds himself ridged, struggling to stay focused on his task. He slips up and lets out a snarl, swallowing audibly and inhaling the scent of Kurt. It's divine, scrumptious and he wants more than anything to rip through the boy's pale skin into the blue veins at his wrists. He's been careful around the boy since that day four years ago but he knows his pupils are expanding dangerously as he gazes on prey.

Blaine focus is shaken as the boy snaps back to reality, suddenly scrambling back desperately. Blaine steps forward and Kurt lets out a strangled sob,

"No, no, no, stay away from me," he forces out, breath coming in quick gasps. Blaine halts, gets a handle on himself as he feels more than sees the boy blacking out. He's kicking away slower, his mumblings of "no,no,no,no" becoming more segmented as he hyperventilates.

"Please," he gasps out, eyes rolling back into his head, "don't-"

And that's it. The fourteen year old falls backward and the wood is filled with silence except for the distant barking of the neighbor's border collie. Blaine wipes his bloody hands on his pants as he walks forward. Kurt's pulse is slowing quickly and Blaine finds it easier to suppress his hunger. He scoops the boy up in his arms. He weighs nothing, a sack of blood and bones. Blaine thanks the stars that the only cut on him are the palms of his hands, dangling along as Blaine walks back toward the house, stepping over the corpse.

He's quickly within the house. He holds tight to Kurt with one hand as he turns the couch back on it's legs with the other, placing the boy softly onto it. Kurt has tears and dirt all over his face, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Blaine's eyes shift from his face to his hands, smeared with bits of rock from outside and blood. Blaine takes Kurt's right hand in his, palm up, and brings it within inches of his mouth without thinking. He inhales deeply, blown away by how desirable even this tiny amount of blood is. His own mind is alarmed, but despite the internal warning he can feel his mouth opening slightly, breathing in more deeply. His cold breath hits the boy's skin and his own body aches. He moves closer, his eyes fluttering closed as he licks his lips. Just a bit...

He hears a car pull into the driveway, and headlights flicker through the window. In the same instant, Blaine's eyes snap open, he drops Kurt's hand, and pulls himself back. He's across the room and out the back door before he can register what's happened. He hides in the darkness as the car stops and the door opens. It's Burt Hummel, the smell of engine grease mingling with his sweat. Blaine hears him curse and it's followed by quick but heavy footsteps and the call of Kurt's name. He barrels through the ripped open front door and stills, taking in the destruction before spotting his son on the couch.

Blaine leaves then, quietly heading back toward the grips the disemboweled head by the hair and tosses the body over his shoulder and heads back the way he came. He keeps his senses tuned for any other threats as he makes his way back to the car he abandoned.

The road he parked on is a dark two-lane, shrouded in woods and rarely traveled. Just before he reaches his vehicle, he spots an old trailer. It's clearly been abandoned for years. The ceiling is caved in and kudzu creeps up the sides. He uses little force to get the door open and throws the body inside. He senses nothing as he reaches the car, reaching into the still open door and opening the glove compartment. He takes a lighter from inside and heads back to the trailer.

There's a soft glow from the flames ahead as he slides into the drivers seat and closes the door. He leans back against the head rest, rubbing his face with his hands as he lets out a breath and sits in the silence.

Burt Hummel will be on the way to the hospital now. Police will be at the house. Someone will call the fire department soon enough and they'll presume that the trailer fire is an act of teenage arson.

All of this is in motion outside of the car, but within Blaine just sits in silence and wipes his tongue slowly over her bottom lip, tasting the smallest hint of blood from Kurt Hummel's palm.

* * *

><p>The next night, Blaine perches himself in a pine tree in the Hummel's backyard. There's yellow caution tape set up around the woods and house. Burt is in the kitchen, pacing, his hand gripping the phone like he could break it.<p>

"Yes, yes, there was a lot of blood- what? NO, no it wasn't _Kurt's _blood- well, I don't know who it belongs to, there wasn't a fucking trace of the fucker-"

He's been at it for hours, call after call, expletives to insurance and family and police. Kurt is tucked into bed, although Burt had to cradle him while he cried himself into a restless slumber.

Blaine is worried about the trauma it will cause and how that effects his job here. He's already called Jesse. The phone call was tense and terse. Jesse asked question after question and Blaine begrudgingly answered without asking questions of his own. The vampire thanked him for telling him, told him to keep a closer watch on Kurt while the stench of dead vamp was still all over the yard, and hung up before Blaine could say anything else.

Why was the vampire here in the first place? Blaine wonders, watching over the Hummel house. The same question from years before bubbles up again, overwhelming his thoughts with theories. He closes his eyes and reaches out to Kurt, feeling the familiar and wonderful warmth of the boy who is currently curled up in his bed. Blaine unconsciously runs his tongue over his lips, convincing himself that it's because he's thinking, not because the memory of Kurt's blood covered palm is fresh in his words ghost from his lips as he sighs,

"What are you, Kurt Hummel?"

* * *

><p>YEAAAAAHHHH, PEDO CREEPY STALKER BLAINE. And look, some action!<p>

Holy moly! So many hits and reviews! DUDES, have you ever checked the traffic stats? IT'S SO FUCKING COOL. There are people from Peru, and Denmark and Israel, Korea, Slovakia, Romania, Iceland, Lebanon and more IT'S SO COOL. The geography nerd in me is freaking out. Can't believe fanfiction connects us all :') (hahahaha, okay, so not so melodramatic but still reaaally awesome). If you review, let me know what country you represent! (sorry, I'm nothing if not a dork)


	3. Inertia Creeps

Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

Summary: Blaine Anderson watches Kurt for twelve years before he says hello.

SupernaturalAU/Vampire!blaine

Chapter 3: Inertia Creeps

_Clearly_  
><em>Out of body experience interferes<em>  
><em>And dreams of flying I fit nearly<em>  
><em>Surrounds me though I get lonely<em>  
><em>Slowly<em>

Blaine starts venturing outside of Ohio to find out what he can about Kurt Hummel. He can't go far - he has to make it there and back to Lima before sunrise in case something happens at the Hummel's- but he visits cities within that radius_: _Cincinnati, Cleveland, Indianapolis, even Chicago if he's in the mood for a run. He staggers the visits enough so that he still checks into Jesse's clubs in Columbus as much as he can, so as not to raise any suspicion.

He thought he'd been doing a good job until he comes home to find Jesse St. James sitting at his kitchen table, reading Blaine's copy of _Let the Great World Spin._

"Ah, you're finally home. I was beginning to fret I'd have to stay the day," he says with a charming smile, folding over the edge of a page and closing the book.

"What are you doing here?" It falls out of Blaine's mouth before he can stop himself. He's winded from the journey - three hours on foot to Chicago - and his visit is unexpected and unwanted.

Jesse looks him square in the eyes, his jaw clenching as he smirks. "Not exactly how I would greet my employer."

"Technically, I'm just returning a favor. "

Jesse is unamused by the banter. "Yes, well, you aren't very good at it." He stands, clasping his hand behind his back as he walks the perimeter of the table. He casts a look at the painting on Blaine's wall. "Sargent. Original?"

Blaine doesn't answer. He's not in the mood to banter while Jesse dances around the point. The other vampire seems to catch on because his face suddenly looses its pleasantness. He's cold and stiff as he spits out, "You should be a little more considerate, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine interrupts him in a rough voice, willing the other vampire to get to the point. "What are you here for?"

Jesse's eyes are completely dark. By this time he's seething. "I just want you to do your fucking job. Watch this kid until I tell you I don't need you. And then I want you to leave. I don't want to hear that you've been to Cincinnati and Pittsburgh and most recently Chicago-" Blaine clenches his jaw "-, snooping around in business that isn't yours."

"I haven't been 'snooping'. You left me in fucking Podunk, Ohio for eight years and you don't think I'd get bored? I went to enjoy-" Jesse is in front of him in a second, both hands roughly gripping his shirt.

"Don't lie to me. I know what you've been asking about in Columbus. You're a fool if you think I don't have eyes anywhere else. If I hear that you've been out prying around again, we'll just call off this arrangement and I'll go see how Wesley Kim is getting along. Or David Thompson. I haven't quite rinsed that taste out of my mouth."

Blaine tries to keep a stoic face, locking eyes with Jesse. It takes a moment for the other vampire to calm himself, before he unclenches his fists from Blaine's shirt and straightens out the wrinkles amiably.

"I enjoyed talking with you. Might want to get that painting insured, it's a real treasure." With that he pats Blaine twice on the cheek as he steps around him, heading toward the door. It clicks softly shut behind him.

Not for the first time, Blaine wonders what he's gotten himself into.

* * *

><p>Burt Hummel comes to Gerard's when Kurt is fifteen.<p>

Blaine's hazel eyes flicker to the door as it's pushed open and the bell tinkles a welcoming. The vampire is behind the bar, filling a pitcher of beer as Burt ambles over and takes a seat. He takes his baseball cap off and places it in front of him, lacing his fingers together on the mahogany bar top and glancing around. His shoulders are hunched like he realizes he's out of place.

Right at that moment, Blaine has no idea what to do. He's not terrified by any means, just generally surprised by the man's presence. Surprised to see him here, now, without Blaine having sensed him; but also surprised that he hasn't been here before. No offense to Burt, but he fits the clientele base to a 'T'.

Burt looks up and their eyes meet momentarily. He raises a hand and raises his eyebrows and asks for a mug in a gruff and worn out voice.

Blaine gives a curt nod and fills the glass before placing it in front of him. But instead of moving away, on to the next costumer, he just stands before Burt Hummel and takes him in.

It's weird, knowing that he first saw Burt eight years ago. He's wearing flannel like usual. He's gruff and large and practically the opposite of his son. Blaine knows so much about him and so little.

Burt takes a few drinks and purposefully ignores Blaine for a couple moments. When he realizes the bartender isn't leaving he takes a long draught and sweeps his eyes up to meet him.

"Can I help you, kid?" he asks.

Blaine hesitates for a moment "You seem worn out."

Burt just laughs, rolls his eyes, takes another drink. Blaine falls into the role of attentive bartender as Burt begins to speak. "You wouldn't believe it. Six cars lined up at the shop and my head mechanic is MIA."

A smile tugs at Blaine's lips. Burt's hands are large and calloused from hard work, and he waves them animatedly about him as he elaborates on his day. His story sounds the same as all the others but Blaine feels it, deep in his stomach, that there's something Burt has that the other bar patrons don't.

All of a sudden Burt stops. He 's down to the bottom of his cup and he stares at the last bit of amber liquid with a blank expression. There's a pain there that Blaine can't describe. Burt's the kind of guy that should have a twinkle in his eye but right now it's barely hanging on.

"Aw, look at me runnin' my mouth like you don't have work to get back to. Shoulda stopped me before I got this motor mouth goin', you know?" Burt lets out a good-natured laugh.

Blaine refills Burt's glass. "I'd like to listen."

* * *

><p>Blaine definitely doesn't mention Burt to Jesse. He's done a superb job at staying away from the Hummels so far and the vampire is fully aware that Jesse would not appreciate his presence in Burt's life. Especially now that that presence is becoming a bit of a staple.<p>

Burt comes in once or twice a week without fail and orders a beer from Blaine and sits at the bar, unloading his thoughts on the vampire. While at first he stuck strictly to work related subjects, Blaine has begun wheedling in questions about Burt's home life. It's a Monday night a few weeks after this all started when Blaine drops the bomb:

"Do you have any kids, Burt?" Blaine asks, trying to sound casual. They've been on a first name basis for a few visits now. It seems Burt is endearing himself to Blaine as well.

The older Hummel goes quiet, sighing into his glass. There's a smile on his face that warms Blaine like a fire. "Yeah, I got a kid. A son. Name's Kurt"

Blaine pushes a little more, "Ah, how old is he?"

"He'll be sixteen in a month." Burt just laughs to himself as if he's recalling an amusing memory. Blaine tilts his head, resting his elbows on the bar and holding his head in his hands. "He's a great kid, you know? Great kid..." Burt trails off and Blaine risks his luck.

"Is he all right?" What the vampire wants to ask is if there is something wrong with him, anything special about him? Have you noticed any quirks? But Blaine is approaching this subject gingerly. He still can't help the thrill rolling up his spine. For all the time he's spent in Lima, watching Kurt Hummel like a hawk, the boy is still a mystery to him.

"Oh, no, no everything's fine. He's just... he's such a great kid and... life just has a funny way of knocking people down, ya know?" Blaine nods in agreement, trying to keep it objective. But he's on the edge of his seat, waiting for Burt to finish another drink and hoping he'll continue. He catches the sigh of relief in his throat as Burt continues.

"First his mom dies, and then he gets attacked by some pyscho-" Burt is clenching the handle of his mug when he swivels his wide, angry eyes at Blaine. The irony is astounding. Blaine feels a stab of guilt at this: this lie he's set up. He's playing the part of consoling bartender, serving up drinks and advice, and Burt Hummel is being strung along, spilling his secrets to Blaine like he's a friend. The reality makes his stomach sink. He's the real psycho here, isn't he? And Burt has no idea. "He's been pushed around since he's a kid and he just puts on this front like he's okay with it and I just- I can't stand to see him like that." Blaine is surprised when Burt's voice cracks and he as to take a moment to collect himself. His eyes are glazed with tears but the man doesn't let them fall. He instead laughs uneasily, trying to shake it off."

"But look at me, prattling on about that. You got any, Blaine?"

Blaine wants to hear more and stammers out an eloquent "Uh...?"

"Any little squirts running around? Kids, Blaine."

Oh, well, shit. Blaine was definitely not expecting that question turned on him.

"Oh, um, no. No kids. I'm single."

Burt looks kind of surprised.

"Handsome fella like you hasn't found a girl? There's no hope for any of us."

But Blaine has a had a hunch about Kurt from the time he was little. And the next words out of mouth are said in a rushed and vain hope that he might learn something new about Kurt.

"I'm gay, actually" he says easily enough. In all honesty, he hates to label himself like that. Something about being a vampire has made him realize how fluid sexuality actually is. It probably has to do with the fact that blood is blood and he's fucked all kinds of people for it. No matter that he prefers the taste of men.

He gives Burt a few minutes to digest this and looks up at the man. Blaine can't really decipher the look he's getting – Burt looks like he's inhaled something distasteful.

"You're... gay?"

Blaine is regretting this decision. He'd thought with how, frankly, _flamboyant_ Kurt is Burt would be okay with the subject. The older Hummel must've misread Blaine's face because all of a sudden he's putting his hands up in a peacemaking gesture and fumbling around for words

"Shit, I must look like some asshole. God, no, sorry, it's just...my son, Kurt. He's been having some trouble at school lately. I think that whole...thing...might have something to do with it.

"Thing?"

"That whole bein' gay thing."

The confirmation is oddly comforting to the vampire. The look on Burt's face seems to say the same; like a great truth has been spoken aloud and a weight has lifted off of both their chests.

"What kind of trouble?"

"Kids at school, I think- bullies. I know he keeps an extra pair of clothes in his locker 'cause half the time he comes home in a completely different outfit. He tells me a real 'fashionista'"- he says this word with a roll of his eyes and air quotations - "has day and evening looks or somethin' but I found some of his clothes stuffed under his bed. Looks like they had kool-aid spilled all over them. Kurt's clean -a friggin' neat freak, I don't know where he gets it- and I know he wouldn't let anyone near his clothes with that stuff. And he's been quieter lately, not talking to me about Glee stuff. And then I get this call-" Burt stops, looking at Blaine like he's biting his tongue. "I get this call, some jackass callin' my kid a- a fag. And that's _my _kid he's talking about."

Blaine feels the anger in Burt. He also feels a swell of fondness for the dad, whose fists are clenched and shaking at the very idea that someone would wish any kind of ill will toward his son. Blaine understands that Burt is at a loss of what to do. The man is frustrated; tortured. He looks up at Blaine like he wants him to say something.

And Blaine is by no means accustomed to being bullied. While he was still human, homosexuality had been a taboo enough subject that he'd completely disregarded the fluttering in his stomach when he saw a party of handsome army guys grabbing lunch or his neighbor out mowing his yard, shirt cast off on the front porch. He was too naive then to realize what it was about. And the words 'gay' or 'straight' were so rarely thrown around in the vampire world that he'd forgotten how cruel people could be.

But Blaine feels like he has to say something and the words spill quickly from his mouth. "It'll get better, Burt. Tell him it gets better."

Burt nods his head and smiles, whispers a thank-you. Blaine wishes he could do more.

* * *

><p>Blaine is in Columbus on Kurt's sixteenth birthday. More specifically, he's got his fangs in the neck of a twenty-something Spanish boy at the back of The Wounded Spirit. At street level, it looks like a small and quirky themed pub but with the right flash of fangs, a vampire would fine more on the menu than fine wine and spirits.<p>

He's been restless lately. And frustrated. He tries to dismiss the cause of it but the way Kurt's been feeling over the past few weeks weeds its way into the back of his head, filling his dreams with lockers and grape flavored slushies; insults and lightning-quick retorts. He lets the heady scent of the boy writhing beneath him engulf him, trying to get the smell of Kurt out of his nose. Blaine bites down harder in frustration when it doesn't work. The human moans, wrapping his legs around Blaine and arching off of the couch. He's thrown back to pale skin and blue eyes and-

Blaine shoves off the boy, fangs snapping away. He grabs a towel from the coffee table and wipes his mouth quickly. The human seems dazed, reaching up to his neck. His eyes are lustful when he looks at Blaine.

"Why'd you stop?" he whines. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Blaine just rolls his eyes. _No, it's not_. _It never is anymore._ He throws the blood speckled towel at the boy, who tries too late to catch it.

The vampire steps out of the room, slamming it behind him. A couple is giggling and kissing their way down the dim hallway, on their way to one of the other private rooms, no doubt. Blaine steps passed half a dozen doors before pushing open the double doors at the end of the hallway that lead him back into the main bar area.

He heads straight for the door, more frustrated than he was when he got here. The night is still young and hopefully he can make it back in time to check on Kurt before the sun rises.

As he's grabbing his coat from the coat track, he catches the eye of a woman sitting at the bar. She raises her glass of blood colored wine and toasts him, beckoning him with her eyes. She's gorgeous, all legs and dark skin and long, wavy brunette hair. It's obvious what she wants. He can smell the lust rolling off her in waves. She stands and walks his way, hips swaying to the beat of the music. He slings his coat over his arm and he reaches for his hat but she gets to it first. She takes it from the rack and places it on her own head flirtatiously, eyes traveling up his body before their eyes meet.

"I haven't seen you around before, handsome," she says, low, breathy, sultry as she twines her hands around the back of his neck, pressing her body against him.

"Sorry, you're lovely but I'm not interested."

She throws her head back in a laugh and he sees the fangs there, but also the ridges of her collar bone; the dip of her dress. "I believe you're the first bashful bloodsucker I've ever met."

He just smiles at her, disentangling himself from her arms and plucking his Stetson off her head. He's tired and wants to leave. "And it has been a pleasure," he says, turning for the door.

"I think you're more interested than you know," she calls. He pauses and turns to let her down again but her body language has changed. She's no longer a seductive temptress. She has a smirk at her lips that seems to say she knows something he doesn't and her eyebrow is raised. "You're looking for something, aren't you?"

It takes him a moment to recover from the shock of her words. His mind starts racing, thinking back on years of questions and searches to no avail. He he'd stopped asking after Jesse came to visit him. Is this night, such a very insubstantial night, really the one he's been waiting for all this time?

"I might be," he answers incredulously. She's stepped closer to him again, reaching out and clasping his arm, tracing her manicured fingernails across the skin.

"Something like a secret?" Her eyes flicker from his wrist to his eyes, peering at him from under thick, dark lashes. He nods, hoping that this secret involves a brunette boy with mesmerizing eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

She drops his hand quickly, reaching to the coat rack and plucking a black pea coat from one of the hangers. "Come with me."

She's out the door before Blaine finds time to protest.

* * *

><p>She leads him to Goodale Park and halts in front of the pond. The air is chilly and quiet. Blaine hasn't sensed anyone since they left the main street.<p>

"Alright, Frodo, let's cut the pretext. What are you willing to pay me?"

Blaine is taken aback by the instantaneous transformation in character. In fact, he's offended. He can't keep the annoyance out of his voice as he says, "What makes you think you have what I want?"

She smiles at him, coming closer and playing with his tie. "Call it woman's intuition," she breathes. Her breath is warm. She must have fed recently. Her coy smile is replaced by a more viscous smile as she continues. "I know you've been asking questions about some rumors in The Underground and I happen to have a bit of an inside scoop."

The bait is set and Blaine bites. "What kind of payment do you have in mind?"

She looks pleased with his answer. She backs away from him, turning to gaze at the pond. "I've heard about you, Blaine Anderson. Jeremiah is a bit a a legend ,but him and all of his little younglings are the most enigmatic bastards I've ever seen. Expect my surprise to hear that someone from his gene pool has been frequenting a dinky town like Columbus, Ohio. So while you've been chasing after your rumors, I've been chasing after you." Blaine doesn't like the cockiness in her stance. She seems less sure of her self with her next statement, as she turns to look at him again. "The truth is, I need an in. As Jeremiah's brood you've already got more pull than I could ever dream of. Plus, you've been throwing around Jesse St. Jame's name like loose change so I figure you can slip my name to him. I haven't exactly made a lot of friends over the last decade or so and working with someone like Jesse gives you a certain reputation, you know?"

Blaine knows. But, assuming he does agree, he's uncertain what he'll say to Jesse about her. _Well, you see, St. James, I was hoping you could give a job to the girl that's about to give me the answers to all those questions you threatened me about. And, yes, the painting is an original. Try not to spill my blood on it.  
><em>

Yeah, that will never work.

So he comes up with another plan quickly; foolishly. "I can help you out," the woman looks instantly relieved so Blaine continues quickly, "**But, **I can't talk to St. James for you. We had a misunderstanding recently. I doubt he's in the mood to pull favors." She is unpleased but gestures for him to continue. "From what you're saying, you're looking for a coven to hang around with, right?" A nod. "I can get you that. I have a friend in Toronto. He gets a kick out of newcomers. Especially ones that are running from something."

She surveys him for a moment, moves to take his hand, but halts suddenly. "If you're lying to me, I just want you to know I have razor blades hidden in my hair. Silver tipped." Blaine raises a brow, assures her she has nothing to worry about (failing to mention he has confidence he'd win in a fight), and extends his hand again. She takes it. Blaine smiles. "What have you got for me?"

* * *

><p>Kurt gets his first boyfriend when he's seventeen.<p>

The boy is a charming and tall blonde who attends a private school in Westerville. They meet at a coffee shop called The Lima Bean, where Kurt and his friends from school hang out. Kurt and Flint's meetings continue with brushed hands and blushing until the fair-haired boy finally asks Kurt out to dinner.

They've been dating for three months on the night they return to The Lima Bean.

Occasionally, Blaine will take a seat inside the coffee shop before Kurt arrives. Tonight is such a night. He's sitting in a corner, in earshot of the boy, but out of sight, as he sips at his coffee (the warmth is pleasant, but it's taste is useless) and reads over the New York Times when Flint whispers,

"We should go somewhere more quiet..."

Blaine is immediately honed in on Kurt's answer, can feel him hesitate before mumbling a flustered 'okay'.

The boys leave hand in hand. Blaine can feel his connection with Kurt growing rapidly, as it did when he cried for his mother all those years ago. But sadness is replaced by an entirely different emotion. Blaine is out the door in no time, in his car and driving home. He can feel his own arousal growing, perched on his seat behind the steering wheel the way Kurt is perched in the passengers' seat of Flint's red mustang. He doesn't know why the connection is flaring up again, why now of all times.

Blaine stumbles into his apartment, trying to block out the sensation of Kurt even as he's frantically loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. All of a sudden he stops, stumbling into his bookshelf and gripping the wood tightly enough to crack it as a moan escapes him. His fangs descend so fast they prick his own gums. He can feel lips ghosting down his neck, chest; hands clawing at skin. He hears a breathy keen in his mind and knows the fantastic sound came from Kurt. He can see the boy stretched out on his bed, blood pulsing through him as his fingers grip the head bobbing between his legs, grabbing at blonde locks as his back arches off the sheets.

"Have you ever been touched this way, Kurt?" Flint asks and Blaine is disgusted by the tone, his voice gruff and unattractive, almost a gurgle.

Kurt opens his mouth to answer but only a moan escapes him as Flint engulfs him once again. The answer is no.

Blaine's breath is coming in harsh bursts as he stumbles the rest of the way into his room and launches onto his bed. On elbows and knees, he unbuttons his pants and takes himself in his fist, forehead pressed against his mattress as he groans. His climax is approaching quickly, his eyes scrunched shut as he focuses on Kurt. Kurt's high pitched moans and gasps, the way his eyes roll back and his lids flutter shut and his toes curl and his hands grip hair that's suddenly curly and dark instead of blonde and the body below the human's is shorter but stronger – so much stronger- than Flint's and Blaine can taste Kurt on his own tongue, grips the flesh of the boy's thighs violently, nails leaving crescents of blood that stain the porcelain skin and Kurt's moans are getting more desperate and Blaine feels his body tighten and his fangs extend until- he let's go.

With a low moan he's coming into his hand. His eyes shoot open as he catches his breath, willing his connection with Kurt to fade. The effect is instantaneous, the guilt and disgust at himself as he stands enough to overpower the sensation of the human boy. Blaine strips out of his clothing and enters the bathroom. He feels sick and curses the coffee he drank earlier because for once there's something in his stomach to upchuck. He gags into the bowl, coughing and sputtering and trying to forget the taste. He's disgusted with himself.

But he tries to reason. Kurt isn't affecting him in any normal way. He recalls his conversation with Santana the previous year. About a feud that's been growing in The Underground. About a human kid that's supposed to be at the center of it. A human kid with hidden potential.

With how much Kurt Hummel's managed to get into his head, Blaine thinks those rumors might not be too far off.

* * *

><p>Blaine says hello to Kurt when the boy is 19 years old.<p>

Kurt is staying in Lima for a year, taking easy but necessary courses at a community college and working double shifts at The Lima Bean to raise money for college. Blaine has heard the conversations he's had with Burt about his New York dreams, as they sit around the kitchen table. _I want you to go, Kurt. But we just can't afford it._

Blaine is already at The Lima Bean when Kurt comes in late for work. He gets a warning from his boss as he hurriedly pulls the uniform green apron over his head and ties is around the middle. He sounds upset as he apologizes for being late. Blaine takes a moment to close his eyes, feeling an odd sensation from Kurt. He can't quite place the emotion, but it isn't pleasant.

An hour later, Kurt gets screamed at by an out of control customer. He tries to remain gracious as she tells him off about an undercooked scone he just served her. She's drawing the attention of the entire shop as her words turn from concern over the food to a full on attack on Kurt's character. She demands to speak the manager. Kurt fetches him. He's not an unpleasant man and he likes Kurt, so he defends her when she demands that the boy apologize to her and be fired for what he did. Kurt looks like he's either holding back tears or a bitch-slap when his manager finally asks the woman to leave. She exits the store in a huff, throwing a string of slurs over her shoulder.

Kurt viciously wipes away tears as murmurs start up around the shop. Blaine's sure he's the only one to hear his manager whisper in Kurt's ear: "Why don't you take off early, Kurt. You look tired." The boy keeps his head high as he gathers his things and leaves.

Blaine can feel the despair creeping up on him. He stands quickly, his feet already pushing after Kurt before his mind can register what he's doing.

Kurt sits in his car at the edge of the parking lot, crying into the steering wheel. Blaine can feel the disparity radiating from him. Kurt's thoughts echo in his head, jumbled and confused and there's this terrible, life-threatening sadness that makes Blaine do what he does next without another thought.

His knuckles rap lightly against the driver's side window and Kurt jumps and suddenly he's staring at him with those big blue eyes and Blaine is blown away by the fact that this- this is the first moment Kurt Hummel has seen him in his lifetime. This is when Blaine realizes that this is the kid he's been watching over for years. He knows Kurt always drinks a non-fat mocha. He knows that his favorite musical is The Sound of Music and his favorite food is chicken parmesan. He bounces on the balls of his feet when he's excited. He likes to sit in the living room with the windows open and listen to rain. He has a copy of _The Adventures of Doctor Dolittle_ that's worn out and falling apart at the binding but he still reads it every year. He smells like fresh cotton and lavender. He never cries in front of people, but his tears are rinsed down the shower drain every night.

"Hey, are you alright?" Blaine asks, his voice cracking as he struggles to keep his composure.

Kurt gives him a quizzical look, wiping the tears roughly on his shirt sleeves. Blaine realizes he can't hear him and gestures for Kurt to lower the window. Kurt lowers it slightly and warily, not even enough for a hand to slip through.

"Yes...?" he asks, voice gruff from crying but still cautious.

"I asked...I asked if you were okay? I saw what happened inside. That customer was totally unacceptable." And Kurt is just staring at him like he can't believe what he's seeing.

"I'm fine," Kurt snaps. He rolls up the window, looking pointedly at the dash and not at Blaine as he turns the key in the ignition and rips out of his parking space.

Blaine Anderson has known Kurt Hummel for twelve years and he chooses this night to try to say hello.

He should have known better.

* * *

><p>A.N:<p>

Mmmm...Santana Lopezzzzz

And I love Burt Hummel with a passion so I wanted to give him a bigger role. Plus, he's such a great dad and burdens himself so much with what's happening to Kurt. I kinda wonder who he talks to about it.

Questions? Comments? Reviews are lovely!


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